Conception of a Rose
There are those who know things that we'll never know.
At conception, they were already a thousand years old.
They spoke barbed truths in the wisdom of a whisper.
All of their humble predictions came to divine fruition.
When they leave us, a star becomes dusted with gold.
Leaving behind both the sweet bramble and salty rose.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.